Missing Fingers
by Subject 12
Summary: Sometimes it seems one finds friends in the most unlikely places, whether one is looking or not.
1. 01, Altaïr

**Author's Note:** _Whoop whoop! First Assassin's Creed fanfic. Fear it, bitches._

**Disclaimer: **_Assassin's Creed © Ubisoft._

_

* * *

_

The leather of his boots made an awful racket as they pounded against the cobbled streets of Jerusalem. He was pursued, as he always was, by merciless city guards and sentries, all because that buffoon hadn't had the sense not to scream. Civilians were like that; he tried his best to help, but often times there was just no gratitude to be found. Altaïr fought the urge to groan in annoyance when he reached _another_ dead end, instead opting to be proactive and scale the damn thing before any more guards could arrive to harass him.

Not that he didn't deserve a little harassment...

Altaïr had scarce covered three blocks over the rooftops when those oh-so-annoying archers posted to guard the city from above began to pester him, follow him, and ultimately knock their arrows and attempt to shoot through his very soul. Feeling mighty perturbed by this development, the assassin swiftly dropped back down into the street with otherworldly agility, bounding around a corner before he was spotted and promptly planting his bum on a cedar bench between a robust man who smelt of roasted animal fats and girl who wore a small pink pout as she swung her legs moodily.

Hide in plain sight. It was a concept that, while at first contemplation seemed both incredibly stupid and suicidal, was actually the most brilliant tactic Altaïr knew. With carefully calculated nonchalance he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and bowing his head to hide his face. Unbeknownst to him, his foot rapped a tattoo against the well-worn stone beneath him subconsciously and a pair of curious hazel eyes sized him up.

"You're the one they're looking for," the pouty girl announced at length as a smack of guards rushed past their bench in a tizzy. Altaïr didn't need to look to know that the fat man on his other side was suddenly at attention; uncertain of what he should say, he replied as plainly as he knew.

"Nothing is true," he said lowly, hoping that at best, she would be confused enough to leave him alone and he could _get up and leave_ without hassle. The little one giggled and pressed her hand to her mouth.

She opened her mouth and whispered against her palm, "Everything is permitted."

Altaïr turned his head sharply to examine her closer. She looked like any other child he had seen since arriving in Jerusalem, if not a little younger than those he usually spotted in the street alone. She grinned mischievously at him and Altaïr found the expression almost malicious for the sheer amount of razor sharp milk teeth the girl seemed to possess.

"My daddy doesn't have that finger, either," she said, gesturing to his left hand innocently. "He won't tell me if it hurts to get it cut off..."

Her eyes glistened brightly up at him and Altaïr lifted the hand in question into his lap almost self consciously.

He decided then that no matter how dire the situation was in the future, there would be no blending with young and curious children ever again.


	2. 01, Ezio

Ezio loved pretty women. Short, tall, curvy, thin, blonde, brunette, exotic, traditional. He loved them all, though he was not without favorites. He liked the exotic women best and he liked them with curves and petite frames. But that was just a preference and Ezio Auditore wasn't exactly _picky,_ which was precisely how he had wound up bedded with a practically emaciated (in his opinion) looking woman for her lack of breasts. She was two inches taller than himself with the most boring, predictably beautiful face Ezio had seen in a long, long time.

But damn, if she wasn't good.

Ezio stilled his breath in his chest, listening for the faint sounds of his latest partner's life. She was breathing deeply, evenly, indicating she was safely sleeping. Perfect. With practiced grace Ezio detangled himself from her too-long limbs and the mess of blankets around them then eased himself away from her and out of the bed. It was slow business from there to gather his many things from where they had been strewn. It was the nature of blades to clang and create noise that would undoubtedly render their master caught, but Ezio was invariably cleverer than his equipment and he made no sound as he redressed, finally tugging on a left then a right boot.

A gloved hand rested briefly on the door as if contemplating whether or not he truly desired to leave. Without a glance back, the assassin pushed it open and slipped out quick as a whip and descended down a darkened staircase corridor and out into the night.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ Ezio gets all the bitches :D Shorter than the last one, having alarmingly nothing to do with either the summary or the title, but hey, this is my fanfiction. Deal._

**Disclaimer: **_Assassin's Creed © Ubisoft._


End file.
